


Bellial

by DasMervin



Category: Supernatural, Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Vessels, Book: New Moon, Crossover, Gen, Spitefic, Twilight Spitefic, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/DasMervin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I need you, Bella. I cannot do this without you. It’s destiny. We were meant to be. Trust me.” A Supernatural/Twilight crossover that reinvents certain happenings in New Moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bellial

**Author's Note:**

> Remember all of those stupid symbolic dreams of symbology in _New Moon_? Remember Edward’s voice in her head telling her to stop endangering herself? Remember that metaphorical hole she was always talking about? Yeah, here is my little crossover AU explanation of them, seeing as we never got a satisfactory answer that explained any of them. Not to mention a nice little slap in the face to Bella’s whining and entitlement issues. Enjoy.

She didn’t want to sleep.

Ever since her birthday, Bella’s perception of reality had been warped, cloudy; life moved on around her while she remained trapped in a hazy, frozen state. But she wanted it that way—she didn’t _want_ to move on. As much as her misery hurt, it was at least a reminder of what she had with…with _him_.

But the dreams…the dreams made it so much harder.

The first time it happened, she awoke confused, upset, and not entirely sure why she should be. All she remembered was that horrible feeling of unease and dread in the pit of her stomach. It was ridiculous—after what had happened to her, after the crushing loss and emptiness she had experienced, why should a dream of stumbling about in the woods all alone make her feel that way? She had gone back to her numb cocoon, hearing Charlie’s pointless words but not processing them, drifting through her day and ignoring the empty babble and the world around her. There was an odd disappearance. Some strange disaster in Maryland. Flooding in Florida. It didn’t matter. None of it did—not compared to the fact that…that _he_ was gone. She wished the people around her would stop trying to comfort her—her days were hard enough to get through as it was. Their bland platitudes served only to remind her why they felt she needed it, and nothing they could say would make her feel better.

But when she fell asleep that night, it happened again. The unease was stronger, and she realized she had been actually _searching_ for something in her dream—searching, and completely unable to find what she wanted.

She was no fool; she knew what her subconscious was doing to her.

Bella bought cold medicine after school that day. She always slept very solidly on those. She didn’t _want_ dreams. But that night, the dream came again, and it was worse. Her searching grew frantic, and the forest seemed darker, dimmer— _emptier._ She awoke covered in icy sweat, shivering, terrified and agonized and just…feeling so _hollow_.

The fourth night in a row it happened, she tried to stop running and searching—she wanted to take control of the dream, and felt that she could if she just tried hard enough. She could take control and do what _she_ wanted to do, maybe even force herself to wake up, because being aware of what was happening but unable to do anything to stop it wasn’t _fair_. She just wanted to sit down and wait for morning to come. There was nothing to find, and she was not going to look any longer.

And for a brief moment, she did. Her dream self’s legs locked and she stopped moving. She stood frozen beneath the sinister green canopy of the trees, and for a single second, all she could hear was nothing. The crunch of the forest floor beneath her feet was gone. There were no sounds of life, no wind, not even rain—just thick oppressive _silence_ , closing in around her, because there was nothing here. _Nothing._ Edward was gone, and he’d left her behind—left her behind alone and unwanted and human. She was alone— _truly_ alone, left behind in her own personal _nothing_.

She woke up screaming that morning.

She was only dimly aware when people tried to speak to her. She knew Charlie was worried; his look of panic when he’d shaken her awake from her horrible nightmare was the first thing she’d seen when her eyes flew open, offering up useless reassurances that did nothing for her. Her friends at school would talk to her, but she barely replied. What could she possibly say to them? And what could they say to _her_? Their happy, simple, human lives were uncluttered by life-changing tragedy like what she’d experienced. Nobody could comfort her. Their empty comforts served only to annoy her when she heard them. She felt exhausted, drained—the effort of just trying to function when blanketed in such misery was made worse due to her lack of sleep. She stayed up as long as she could at night, clinging to wakefulness until her body simply refused to put up with it any longer and she fell asleep, and the dream would be there waiting for her.

Nothing—there was nothing for her in her dreams. There never would be. And she knew why—she realized it as she stumbled once more through the dark forest, desperate to hear anything other than the strangely muffled sound of twigs breaking beneath her shoes.

There was nothing because _she_ was nothing. That was why Edward left—because she was nothing special. She was just like everyone else around her. She was human. She was worthless, useless, dull, ugly— _nothing._

And as she gazed in mute horror around her at the trees, she knew she was looking into herself.

She was grateful when Charlie shook her awake once more, her choking, sobbing screams music to her ears.

No. Bella didn’t want to sleep. She could not take it—could not _stand_ it. She couldn’t bear to be forced to look into herself over and over again and be reminded of all the reasons why Edward stopped loving her and left her, because she hadn’t been _interesting_ enough, hadn’t been _beautiful_ enough, hadn’t been _special_ enough. It was made all the worse because she’d had the _chance_ to be special and beautiful and all those things she felt she was meant for, and it had all been snatched away from her. She’d been condemned to this useless, _human_ existence, condemned to grow old and die, condemned to be _nothing_. She didn’t _want_ to be nothing.

But there wasn’t anything she could do.

So she just curled up under the covers, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest, and held off sleep, but her eyelids were already drooping as the wind rattled outside, and she knew it was only a matter of time…

_You are nothing but an empty shell._

_Nothing._

_You are nothing._

* * *

People noticed. Bella didn’t realize just how much they noticed, because she was withdrawing into herself, wrapping herself in a thick blanket of sorrow and self-pity. Her classmates talked and whispered amongst themselves. They noted her sallow appearance, the dark circles that had formed under her eyes, the way she paid no attention to anything, the way she hardly ate. They weren’t stupid—they’d put two and two together and knew what had started this. Most were convinced it was drugs—people simply did not spiral down into such a state without some kind of aid. A few of Bella’s friends were concerned for her and tried to ask her what was wrong, but the only response they ever got was a dull-eyed stare as if she wasn’t quite sure what they were saying—when she bothered to acknowledge them at all.

Eventually they stopped talking to her, and simply talked _about_ her.

Charlie heard the rumors. He knew what people were saying. His daughter refused to go to counseling. She refused to talk to anyone. Every night Charlie woke up to Bella’s screams, but never knew what she was dreaming. He would only receive blank silence or a sharp retort to never speak to her about her dreams or anything else that might relate to that boy. Charlie knew it was only a matter of time before her health started to decline too.

But he didn’t know what to do. His daughter needed help and he didn’t know how to help her.

* * *

The decision to go to the cliff had been an impulse.

She couldn’t escape her dreams. There was nothing she could think of that would help what had happened. Edward was gone. The Cullens were gone. What else was there worth living for? Her human friends? She’d never truly fit in with them. Her parents? She’d all but raised herself—they had never been sure what to do with her. The Cullens had been her life. _Edward_ had been her life. He’d told her that she was _his_ life…and now that he was gone, she was nothing. Her friends and family didn’t understand— _couldn’t_ understand, even if she tried to talk to them. They were only human and had never experienced even a taste of what she’d had—and never would. Life wasn’t worth living if Edward was not in it because Edward was the only thing that had ever meant anything to her. He’d been everything to her—he’d been her life because he _was_ life, but he’d simply refused to let her have it.

She’d driven aimlessly around after school, winding up right by the coast without even realizing she’d been going that direction. She’d spotted the rugged cliff faces, seen the way the water crashed against the base. It had been a whim—she’d gunned her motor and driven as fast as she could to that spot. The cliff was high; the waves at the bottom pounded relentlessly against the rocky shore. She’d gotten out of her truck in a daze, stumbling through the rain towards the edge, part of her still not sure what she was doing.

As she stared down at the cresting waves beneath her, blinking rapidly against the rain dripping down her face, she thought about how protective Edward was…and how he’d made her promise with all she had to not be reckless. Why should she keep her promises when he hadn’t kept his? She knew about cliff diving. It wasn’t like she’d be jumping with any finesse—she just wanted to jump. To do something stupid and reckless simply because Edward had told her not to…

She took another step towards the edge.

_Bella…_

She froze. She’d heard it through the wind and the rain, faint, but she’d know that voice anywhere. Just the barest whisper…

Bella glanced wildly around, half-expecting _him_ to come striding out from the trees behind her, but she was alone. But she’d been sure…she’d heard _something_ …

Her gaze returned to the edge of the cliff, her resolve strengthening.

“Bella!”

That was not her imagination. Her throat tightened as her breath was snatched away from her. His voice—flawless and smooth and disapproving, filling up her head with its magnificence, bathing her in the light of his presence…the empty, hollow feeling in her slowly subsided, and she clung desperately to it.

“Bella, back away from the edge.”

She didn’t care that she was hearing voices—all that mattered was that she was hearing _his_ voice, and she stumbled in her haste to do as ordered.

“Don’t endanger yourself, Bella,” the silky voice continued, stern and beautiful. “Go back to your truck and go home.”

“Edward,” Bella burst out, not sure what she was going to do—beg a delusion to stay with her? It was better than the alternative of having him fade away.

But fading he was. “Go home to Charlie,” he murmured. “Be safe. For me.”

 _For him_ …of course he’d know her only weakness. She staggered backwards, trying to turn to face her truck.

“Good girl,” he whispered, the last traces of his voice whisked away with a gust of wind once her back was to the cliff.

But it wasn’t just his voice that vanished. As she fumbled her way inside her truck, not turning it on and firing up the heater because she didn’t even realize she was shivering, she suddenly became aware of a dull, aching throb in her midsection. To have that emptiness suddenly filled, however brief it was, had made her painfully aware of it when she was hollowed out once more. It hurt so badly she couldn’t breathe—she was so _empty_ without…without _him_ …

She wasn’t entirely sure how she made it home, but she did in time to throw something together for Charlie’s dinner. She didn’t eat with him—she had a feeling she’d just throw up anything she tried to eat. Charlie kept asking her if she was okay, but half the time she couldn’t even muster up the energy to tell him she was fine even to make him leave her alone. The hurt was too deep, and the urge to find a way to fill that horrible excruciating _hole_ inside her too strong…

Too soon Charlie was knocking softly on her door and bidding her good night. Sleep—she didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t think she could take the agony of that dream on top of this new pain. She refused to lie back against her pillows, sitting rigid and upright, staring at the darkness of her room. Bella didn’t care that she had school tomorrow. She was not going to sleep. She wouldn’t. She would not face that nothing again.

But it was happening. She felt too tired to keep herself sitting up as the tree outside her window rattled angrily, and she couldn’t fight it…

Bella’s eyes drifted shut and she was pulled under, sleep descending upon her once more.

* * *

It was just dark enough in the forest to be unsettling and potentially terrifying. I knew that I would be able to spot movement, but it would be too dark for me to make out anything that was stalking me.

But it didn’t matter. I knew from experience that there would be nothing. There was nothing in the forest. No predators stalking me, no people looking for me, and nothing for me to find. Not even a way out from the trees. I could walk in a straight line and find no reprieve. I could twist and turn and never find anything.

Nothing. All that was here was nothing. I couldn’t find anything, and nobody wanted to find me.

I could already feel the horrible choked screams building up inside of me, that familiar panic settling in as I stumbled again. Some small part of me absolutely refused to believe there was nothing—despite there being nothing all times before, surely there would be _something_ this time. I hated it—I knew it was a dream, but I couldn’t stop my frantic searching. I knew that the desperation was all the stronger because of my experience on the cliff, that desperate desire to find something because I’d had a taste, a reminder—I’d _heard_ him. It had been clear and perfect and there, I had heard him again. And I could not take the nothingness after hearing him again—could not— _would_ not, I would die before that happened—

And suddenly, there he was.

My heart stopped when I saw him. I had just turned again, stumbling over an invisible tree root, and he stood before me. He was perfect and glorious and shimmering despite there being no daylight, a perfect beacon of beauty and hope in this gloomy darkness. His bronze hair was tousled as it always had been, his bright golden eyes liquid and infinite, and his smile gentle.

It wasn’t possible. Edward was never here in my dreams. He was going to disappear any moment, to make my pain complete…

He spread his arms, his smile widening. “Bella,” he murmured softly.

Just the sound of his flawless voice was enough to break me from my frozen disbelief. A choked sob escaped me as I staggered forward as fast as I could. I didn’t care that it was a dream—I had to touch him. I didn’t stop until I collided with his stone chest, and I waited for him to evaporate beneath my fingers—surely he would. My subconscious loved tormenting me these days, surely he was going to disappear…any moment now…

But he didn’t. It all felt so _real_. How on earth had my dull human memory created him so _perfectly_? Every detail was there, right down to his icy and tender touch as he held me gently, his touch light and delicate as if he believed me made of spun glass. “Edward—Edward, I—” I blubbered against him, trying to make the words come but I could do nothing but cry against him, feeling him gently stroke my hair.

“Shh. It’s all right, Bella. Everything is all right.”

“No,” I managed, trying to stem the flow of tears. “It’s not—this is a dream, it’s just a dream.” I forced my eyes open, staring up into the face of my angel. “And I’m going to have to wake up, and you’ll be gone,” I sobbed. “And—and it’s not real, none of it’s _real_. I just want you _back_ —”

“Bella,” Edward said soothingly, “just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

I stared up at him, shivering a little as he stroked her hair away from my face.

“This is a dream, Bella, but it’s the only way I can talk to you,” Edward said gently.

“Talk to—Edward, what do you mean?” I breathed, leaning into his touch and hating myself for it, because this was going to be all the more painful in the morning when I woke up.

“I’m not Edward, Bella. I’m an angel.”

I blinked up at him, stunned, unable to tear my eyes away from his mesmerizing gaze as my mind struggled to process what I had just been told.

My natural inclination was to tell him he was being ridiculous—of course he was Edward, because he was perfect in every detail, just as I remembered. And of course he was an angel—I’d always thought of Edward as an angel, glorious and divine and beautiful. Something as beautiful as he was had no business existing on Earth like he did. But as I continued to stare, he very patiently said, “Not a vampire. Not Edward. A _real_ angel, Bella.”

I swallowed. This was impossible. This—I couldn’t seem to understand anything he was saying. This was too much—what on earth was my mind trying to do to me now?

It was as if the Edward of my dream could read my mind, and I crazily thought that was impossible too, because Edward couldn’t read my mind. “Really, Bella,” Edward chuckled. “You had so little trouble accepting vampires were real, but angels are out of the realm of possibility?”

“But—but you’re _Edward_ ,” I mumbled, stroking his shirt front and trying to comprehend what I was being told. I was still mostly convinced that this was all just a bizarre dream.

“I am not Edward—simply taking a form you can best understand.” His freezing hands cupped my face, his bright eyes intent upon my own. “I _am_ an angel, Bella.”

I’d never considered myself religious. I’d never had any firm convictions in the realm of theology, really. I supposed there was a higher power, but I’d never really thought about it. But…I couldn’t help it. It was _Edward_ saying it, and every part of me believed him simply because it _was_ Edward. Even if it…really wasn’t.

And so despite my disbelief and confusion, I went along with it. Whatever it was. “What…why are you coming to me?” I whispered.

“Because I need you,” he said simply.

My heart clenched, hearing those words from that voice. “For what?” I asked, trying to remember it wasn’t Edward but—

“I’m an angel,” he said again, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. “And I’m here because I need _you_. You’re special, Bella. _Very_ special.”

I struggled to get her throat to work, trying to concentrate even as his touch dazed me. “Special?” I repeated dimly.

“Oh yes. For an angel like me…an _archangel_ , the greatest and most powerful of us all…a very special person is needed,” he murmured.

“Needed how?” I finally asked.

His eyes were warm, loving. “You are a vessel, Bella. A very powerful vessel. _My_ vessel. I need…I need you to let me take control of your mind and body. And to be honest, it is probably not going to be pleasant for you. But I need you to let me in. I need your consent. I need you to say ‘yes’.”

Every part of me was screaming at me to say of course, yes, because it was _Edward_ who was asking and I would do anything for him—I’d die for him, give up my soul for him, _anything_. He knew that, I’d tried to make him see that before he’d left, and maybe this was my second chance to show him that he was wrong, and that I _could_ be strong and special for him…

But the tiny, rational part of me insisted that it was not Edward. It was just a dream…or maybe it really _was_ an angel.

“I understand that you’re scared,” Edward suddenly said. “But you don’t have to be. You’ve always felt you weren’t meant for the life handed to you. And you were _right_.” His hands dropped, and he took mine in his icy fingers, impossibly gentle and just like all other times he’d done so in the past. “You’re more than can be confined by this useless human existence, Bella. You were meant for something special—you were meant for _this_.” His gaze never left mine. “This is destiny, Bella. Fate. You were right all along when you thought you were special. You are _very_ special. You were meant for _me_.”

I was struggling to remember how to breathe, feeling my hands shaking. I swallowed hard. I remembered something he’d mentioned earlier, and had to ask, “Will…will it hurt?”

His face filled with a gentle regret. “As I said—it will not be pleasant for you. Such is the price for a human to wield such divine power. But you were ready to take the pain of transforming into a vampire, Bella.” He smiled crookedly and I felt my lungs constrict when I saw that smile that I’d missed so much. “Such courage within you,” he murmured, his cold hand pressing against my chest, where my heart was wildly beating. He looked up, and his eyes met mine, burning gold. “I will not force you to do this. This is your choice. All I can do is ask that you let me in.”

An angel. An angel from Heaven. Asking for _my_ help.

I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t even know if this wasn’t a dream. But…I was needed. For some inexplicable reason, an angel had come to me and was desperate for my aid. Because…I was special. Because I was meant to help an _angel_. I was meant to help _Heaven itself_.

And as I stared into his eyes once more, struggling for courage, struggling to convince myself that this was real, for a moment I could _see_ him, and see into forever—see the power in his eyes, the glory and beauty and strength of him, and behind it, the soft, pleading whisper… _I need you. I am nothing without you._ And I knew it was real.

I straightened my spine, standing tall in his arms—in the arms of my angel.

“Yes.”

* * *

“Sam.”

Sam Winchester woke up. The voice beside him stirred that familiar dull ache in his chest, but it’s a pain that some part of him welcomes, because to not feel it would mean forgetting her.

He turned. There she was, lying beside him dressed in white, just like before, and just as beautiful. He couldn’t help but lean forward and press a hesitant kiss to her neck, wishing she was real.

“So,” she said. “This is your life now.” She turned to face him, half-smiling. “Think you can just live forever with your head buried in the sand?”

Her words cut deep, but he didn’t want to believe them—he couldn’t believe in them. “I love you, Jess,” he murmured, and then he sighed, sitting up. The bed shifted as Jess sat up as well. “God knows how much I miss you, too,” he went on. “But you’re wrong.” His voice hardened, filling with conviction. “People can change. There is reason for hope.”

“No, Sam. There isn’t.”

Sam bowed his head, feeling her soft hand on his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his heart thudding painfully. “How can you be so _sure_?”

“Because you freed me.”

The voice was not Jess’s. Sam turned quickly, staring at the girl who now sat in Jess’s place. He flew off the bed, startled, quickly backing away.

The girl had a gentle, patient smile. “You know who I am,” she said.

Her eyes were a soft brown. She was small and slight; she couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. And Sam did know who she was.

“ _Lucifer._ ”


End file.
